


First Meeting

by CozyCryptidCorner



Category: Original Work, exophilia - Fandom
Genre: Diabetic Reader, Exophilia, First Meetings, Gen, Human/Monster Romance, Orc, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22376875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CozyCryptidCorner/pseuds/CozyCryptidCorner
Summary: Running into an orc might have been a stroke of fate, but you're super lucky it happened.***If you are reading this on any third party apps (such as unofficialao3), or on any platform besides AO3, Tumblr, and Wattpad, then you are reading stolen work. I do not give consent for my stories to be published or pulled elsewhere.***
Relationships: Orc/Human, Orc/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 144





	First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commission by the lovely artofdolls on tumblr.

#

The mall is completely packed, but you have a list of things that you need to buy, and you are going to get through all of it, goddamnit. You weave from store to store, comparing prices, looking for coupons on saver’s websites, trying to find the best quality for the least amount of money. And yes, you’re aware that it would be easier to buy all this online, but you like to look things over in person before making any purchases. The entire morning flies by, with you walking from one end of the hulking building to the other, meandering through the shops, running a list of objects and numbers in your head.

You start feeling a tad bit dizzy, so you take a moment to sit down on a padded bench, your purchases by your feet. Since your head feels light and your fingertips are tingling, you take a minute to measure your blood sugar, just in case. Out comes the little needle from the kit in your purse, and you press it into your skin and wait for the blood to well up, swiping it across a testing strip. The results are not… great, but you’re not dying, either, so you need to gather your things up and eat something sugary.

Standing up, it turns out, is a mistake, because it makes the fizziness in your head far worse. You stumble, the edges of your vision spotting out, and your head feeling like it’s been filled with helium, light, floating. You can barely take one step before the muscles in your legs give up, so you stumble, trying to regain your footing, right into something substantially _large._ It takes you a minute to actually realize what had just happened, and even more for the gears in your head to _process_ it all, too. You ran into someone, not something, the person obviously of great height, and either your vision is no longer working correctly, or this man’s skin is _green._

Oh wait, the spaced-out staring probably seems extraordinarily rude.

“I’m so sorry!” Your words are slow and almost slurred, as though you’re drunk. Again, you try to stand on your own, taking a step back, but you stumble again.

The orc reaches out, catching your arm before you have the chance to fall back onto the cold stone floor. At least in this position, though, you’re capable of seeing much more than a tan-colored shirt, and even though your body is crashing like a high-speed train off a dynamited bridge, you can see that the orc has some excellent features. Square jawline with two pearly, clean tusks jutting out from his lower lip, his skin a dusty green in the soft, natural glow coming down from the skylights. His hair is up in one of those respectable man buns, not those pathetic little ponytails, but a style with actual _volume_ to it.

“Are you alright?” He asks, his voice somehow gruff and gentle at the same time.

“Yeah, I just-” wow, has the sun always felt so… feathery? “I’m diabetic, I have low blood sugar. If I eat something with-” the room tilts slightly, but you’re able to continue your speech on muscle memory alone, “high sugar content, I should be fine.”

“I see,” the orc seems relieved that you probably aren’t committing public drunkenness, “maybe I should help you get to the food court?”

Typically, you aren’t one to accept such help from strangers, but you honestly don’t think you can walk two steps on your own, much less to the closest Dippin’ Dots stand, so you offer up a brief nod of acceptance. You had expected that he might let you brace to his side, taking a good portion of your weight off your wobbling legs, but he instead picks you up as though you’re lighter than air. You don’t even have time to feel embarrassed about it, either, because at this point you’re so desperate for the assistance that you don’t care that you’re being carried like a bride.

“Where exactly would you like to go?” He asks, looking around as he heads in the direction of the food court.

You wait for the scent of food to hit, then you turn your head in the direction of the first thing that makes your mouth water. The restaurant (if you can even call it that) looks like the only thing it sells are sugar-filled monstrosities, so you probably won’t have to eat an entire portion of what they have before everything in your body is back to normal. Without a word, you gesture in that general direction, and the orc gently sets you down in a chair right in front of it.

As you fumble for your wallet with ashen, shaky hands, the orc merely holds his hand up and offers a shake of his head. “It’s fine, my treat.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, partially relieved that you don’t have to dump out your purse on the table.

“Of course! What would you like?”

You squint over at the menu, picking something out randomly, and he goes up to the counter. It doesn’t take long for the cashier to pack up the little treat and ring him up, and soon enough, he’s returned, the small brown paper bag in hand. When he hands it to you, you’re very quick to thank him profusely, breathlessly, and almost tear open the packaging like a wild animal. Oh, the thing is so goddamn sugary that your teeth start screaming in pain the moment you bite into it, so you’re careful to only take smaller bits in your mouth.

Once it’s gone, you take a minute to like, actually thank the orc for his actions, because he went above and beyond the call of duty, especially since you’re very much a stranger that literally ran into him. “You have saved me a hospital trip, probably, anyone else probably would have called an ambulance first, rather than help me get here.”

The orc waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I helped in the way that I could, I’m sure you would do something similar if our roles were reversed.”

You imagine trying to carry his hulking body through the mall like he did to you, but the mere thought of it almost sends you into a fit of laughter. Oh, you’d do your best to help him, he’s right, but there would definitely be a difference in capabilities there. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“Xorakk.”

“Xorakk,” you repeat, running the guttural syllables over your tongue, and then offer up yours in response. “It’s nice to… er, run into you.”

He lets out a good-natured laugh. “I was nice running into you, as well.”

You still need some time for the sugar to actually go through your system, so you’re stuck here for the time being. Since Xorakk doesn’t appear to be in much of a hurry, either, and seems to be staying until you’re cleared, you try making some conversation. “Do you come around here often?”

He lets out a grunting chuckle. “Not particularly. Here for an oven in one of those department stores, but the employees need time to load everything in my truck, so I decided to get some lunch. Didn’t imagine running into someone who was only moments away from collapsing.”

“Ha, well, it’s a good thing you did.” You drum your fingers on the table. “Why do you need a new oven?”

“Some renovation work, I do remodeling old homes, flipping them over and such. There’s a good brand I like, and they sell it here.”

“Oh, you’re a contractor? That’s cool! What kind of stuff do you usually do? Just remodeling the homes?”

“Mainly, yes, sometimes my company gets other offers, too.” He launches into a lengthy explanation for what he does, how he does it, and the current project that he and his team are currently working on. You’re very glad for the conversation, you’d probably be listlessly scrolling on your phone without it, and the animated way that Xorakk speaks makes everything about thirty times more interesting than it probably is.

You barely even notice when it’s time for you to retest yourself to make sure your blood sugar is returning to normal levels, so as the conversation goes, you get out your little kit and give it another go.

“Is that how you measure the uh, glucose? In your blood?” Xorakk asks, fascinated.

“Yeah, these little paper-like strips can tell me what’s good… or not so good, I guess.” You prick your forefinger, pressing your thumb right next to the wound so blood wells up a bit faster. “If I’m feeling a bit ill, I’ll test myself to see if it’s the blood sugar or not.”

You wait for a moment, and things are looking decent. Even though you’re still a bit off, you should be able to resume your shopping within a couple of minutes. When you stand, you shake Xorakk’s hand, internally marveling at his grip. “Thank you again so much for your help.”

“You’re very welcome, I suppose that I shall see you around?”

That almost sounds like a promise, should you agree. You offer up a smile, “I sure hope so.”


End file.
